The Ring of Fire
by MikeJaffa
Summary: Andromeda must save Harper from pirates bent on vengeance
1. Prologue

TITLE: The Ring of Fire

AUTHOR: MikeJaffa

Originally posted under my name or "MikeJoe"

RATING: PG for violence, Vedran expletives

SYNOPSIS: In the wake of the crew's battle with the Balance of Judgment, Andromeda and her crew face another leftover High Guard Starship... and this time, it's personal...

SPOILERS: Mainly "Mathematics of Tears," "Star Crossed," "Harper 2.0," and the series premiere, but others are mentioned.

FOLLOW-UP: A Friendly Chat Over Sparkys

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was the first fan fic I ever wrote. Long past time I shared it with the Fan Fiction Dot Net community, for both those who read it once and those whom it's new to. Let's bring it!

DISCLAIMER: GENE RODDENBERRY'S ANDROMEDA and all its characters and situations are copy righted (C) by Tribune Entertainment. The lyrics to "Snow on the Sahara" are copy righted 1997 by Kevin Organization. I'm using both without permission, but I'm not making a dime off this, so please don't sue me! This unauthorized, non-commercial manuscript and the characters of Galen Navarre; Thomas Stryker; the "Sons of the Blood Sisters;" and the "Blood Sisters" Valkyrie Brunhilde/Val (aka Ursa Minor/Minnie), Artemis, and Shiva are copy righted © 2001 by Michael J. Gallagher, all rights reserved. That is a fancy way of saying that if you would like to use this story and/or any of its "guest characters", you have to get my permission first.

/

/

Only tell me if you still want me here

When you wander off out there

To those hills of dust and hard winds that blow

In that dry white ocean alone

-Anggun, "Snow on the Sahara"

/

/

"Humans have a saying - perhaps it is a proverb?

- that 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone.'

Therefore, cherish everyone and everything around you

as gifts of The Divine, for you do not know

which will be taken first."

- The Anointed of the Way,

Commentaries and Meditations,

compiled CY 10021

PROLOGUE

"Ursa Minor! Ship!" Second Lieutenant Refractions of Dawn could not contain her excitement as she raced onto the bridge of the High Guard cutter. "I've got great news - you won't believe it!"

The translucent image of a tall, human woman, with fair skin, bright blue eyes, and short blonde hair condensed out of scan lines in the space in front of the excited insectoid Than on the starship's otherwise empty bridge. Human males thought Minnie, the persona of the Ursa Minor's artificial intelligence, was very beautiful. Not being human, Dawn couldn't see it herself, although she and Minnie had spent a lot of time talking about it... and verbally ripping selected male officers and crew apart (in private, where no one else could hear them, of course).

"What is it, Dawn?" Minnie asked.

"I... I don't know... " She chattered in her native language before reverting back to Common. "I was in the space station's control center filing flight plans and Admiral Stark came by and congratulated me - personally! She said my new orders had been cut and I have my new posting tomorrow!"

"Orders? I don't have any information on new orders."

"No, you don't - that's the point! Your database hasn't been updated yet, and I wanted to be the first to tell you." Dawn snapped to attention. "Presenting First Lieutenant Refractions of Dawn, helmsman of the Andromeda Ascendant!"

Of all the reactions Dawn had expected from her ship's AI, a blank stare wasn't one of them.

"You're leaving me? I mean, you've been transferred?"

"Ship ... are you ok?"

"No, it's fine, Dawn, I'm just... surprised. Congratulations. You've earned it."

"You think so?"

"You've been my helmsman for two years, seven months, and twelve days. Know so."

"Thanks, that means a lot coming from you." Dawn tabbed a control panel and a screen lit up, showing the huge Glorious Heritage class cruiser birthed only a few spaces away. "But I still can't quite believe it. Me - ME! - piloting the Andromeda! I keep thinking this is a dream, and I'll wake up on a barge hauling rubber Magog poop to Fountainhead!"

"You're a talented pilot, both in normal space and in the slipstream. It's about time the admiralty recognized that."

"But that's just it - it wasn't some admiral who made this decision! The Andromeda has a new captain, Dylan Hunt. Ever hear of him?"

"I know his reputation."

"Oh?" Dawn switched into gossip-mode. "What kind of reputation?"

"Professionally, a good officer, a brilliant field tactician. Worked in intelligence. The other ... he's seeing the Old Lady's niece."

"Oh, ho!"

"But I'm sure there's no nepotism involved here."

"Of course not."

"But we can go over that later, before you leave, Dawn. Were you going to say Hunt selected you?"

"Yes, yes! He's picking a new bridge crew. Already has an XO, some Nietzschean, but the Old Lady is letting him hand-pick the rest of his command staff. And HE asked for ME! I'm going to be driving the flagship!"

"Really." Minnie's smile faded for a second, then recovered. "Well, that is good news, the promotion and the transfer both. You've earned them."

"Thanks, Minnie. You've been a good friend, and your support means a lot to me. Now... I gotta get a message ready to go home, to my mating group, before the next couriers leave. They're not going believe this, either!"

"I'll have the recording software ready when you get to your bunk, Dawn."

"Thanks, Minnie!" The Than chattered a term of endearment in her native language and raced off the bridge, to her small bunk in the compact starship. The hologram vanished as the AI prepared to record Dawn's message and get it into the courier network... while making another call of her own...

/

/

Captain Dylan Hunt liked his new ship. He liked his new office. He liked the new leather chair and indulged himself in swivelling back and forth in it.

He didn't like the way he'd got his new ship. The mission to Mobius still haunted him, the stomach wound a constant reminder. And he was having serious reservations about this ship's artificial intelligence. They'd locked horns five times today already over minor issues, and they hadn't left spacedock. His first mission would probably be a hoot. Then again, maybe he should have paid attention to that narfing boring Perseid during the orientation briefing on AIs instead of laughing and joking around in the back row with the other newly-minted captains. At the moment, though, the plusses and minuses of his new assignment seemed to balance each other out.

"Captain Hunt?" Andromeda's hologram - Rommie - materialized in front of him. "We have a communication for you from the AI on the Ursa Minor, a Resilient class cutter docked near us. Would you like to talk to her?"

"Of course. Show her... ahhh, yes, by all means."

More scan lines blazed, and a second hologram appeared next to Rommie, blonde and fair instead of dark skinned but just as stunningly beautiful. Back in his academy days, Dylan might have had some ribald comments about the possibilities of a blonde and a brunette together; he'd learned long since that was not the way to handle women, human or mechanical. But damn, these anthropomorphic AI personas were going to take a little getting used to.

"Good afternoon, Ursa Minor ... "

"Minnie, Captain," Ursa Minor said.

"Minnie, yes. Can I help you?"

"I understand you've requested my helmsman for your crew. Refractions of Dawn?"

"Yes, yes, Rommie recommended her."

Minnie turned to Rommie. "You did?"

"Yes," Rommie said. "While it is disconcerting that she's never piloted a capital ship, her record shows she is a good officer, a talented pilot, and very adaptable. I think she will be fine. Is there something else we'd need to know?"

"No... no. I've worked for a long time with Lieutenant Dawn. She is a very capable officer. And she also gets along well with the other members of the crew. She will be a fine addition to your ship's company, and I don't doubt you will be pleased with her performance."

"That's good to hear," Dylan said. "I'll note your recommendation in her service record. Rommie, will you take care of that, please?"

"Done, Captain."

"Is there anything else we can do for you, Minnie?"

"No, Captain Hunt. I would like to say it's been an honor to have met you."

"Thank you."

Minnie saluted; Dylan returned it. Both holograms vanished, but in the instant before the connection between the two ships was broken, they spoke to each other at light speed, in their own language:

-Ursa Minor?

-Yes, Andromeda?

-Don't worry; I understand. I'll take care of your friend for you.

-Thank you... Andromeda... I'm sure you will...

/

/

When the Andromeda majestically pulled out of spacedock a few days later, it was a major media event, and people on both the space station and groundside watched it. Minnie's hologram "watched" from her bridge with the rest of her crew. She kept up a brave face and smiled, acting like she was happy for Dawn, while her CPU did a slow burn.

Glorious Heritage... Glorious Headaches, who acted like the princesses of the shipyards! And this Andromeda, the runt of the litter... what had she done of note, but some cloak and dagger missions for the Old Lady? Was that it? Was Stark pairing her two proteges, one of whom would mate with her niece? The woman had to be part Nietzschean, if that was it! How else could Andromeda and that... that... that living hood ornament of a captain have leave to come in here and take HER helmsman?

But as much as she was angry, Ursa Minor knew she had to accept it. She was a High Guard officer, like Dawn and Hunt and Rommie. She'd always known that one day, new orders would come down and Dawn would leave - they all would - but somehow, she had not been ready for it to happen just yet, had always figured that would be "someday," not today or tomorrow. And Dawn would always be at her helm, and they would always spend their after hours whispering and gossiping and slinging dirt around. Unrealistic. As galled as Minnie was, as long as she was High Guard, she would have to accept it, and there was nothing she could do...


	2. I

"We missed you at the service," Captain Dylan Hunt said, advancing into the Eureka Maru's bunk area. "I think he would have liked you to have been there."

"I was there," Andromeda answered. "This body didn't have to be present. He knew that better than anybody." The beautiful android who embodied the giant, silver, sentient (some would say "living") starship which the smaller, clunkier (but still spaceworthy) Eureka Maru was birthed in was lying on Seamus Harper's bunk, a cardboard box filled with clothes, tools, and miscellaneous junk on the deck next to its foot. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and she was clutching a little bundle to her bosom.

"Rev said all the right things," she went on. "And you were good, too, Dylan. But I don't know how you managed to keep a straight face. I don't think I could have, and you know how Harper is - " Rommie caught herself and her voice broke. "- was about 'touchy feely' stuff. He couldn't have stood to see me cry... " And she smiled a bit. "...let alone Tyr being all choked up. Although that would have amused him."

Dylan half-smiled at the mental image of the big Nietzschean trying to be stoic when his heart had been ripped out of him. But they'd all had their hearts torn out; even Rev Bem had had trouble speaking. The Andromeda Ascendant had arrived at Bangor drift, expecting to find Harper fresh from what had turned out to be a combination trading mission and surfing trip (although Beka had argued that the regional qualifying semi-finals were nothing to sneeze at on the Pan Galactic Surfing Circuit, so what if it meant going AWOL again); instead, the station's security chief had contacted them and somberly informed them of Harper's accidental death. He had been strolling down the wrong corridor when a plasma conduit blew out; he had been atomized instantly, not even ashes left to bury. Dylan and Tyr had thrown themselves into putting the station's internal investigation under a microscope, but could find no flaw, no hint of skullduggery. Harper had died a senseless, accidental death, and they had to mourn him, remember him... and then go on without him.

'At least Beka isn't threatening to take Trance and Rev Bem away with her,' Dylan thought, 'although, under the circumstances, I wouldn't blame her if she wanted to.' He had known his quest to restore the Commonwealth, which had fallen while he and the Andromeda had been frozen in time on the edge of a black hole for 303 years, would be risky, but he hadn't counted on a fatality, somehow. Now, he wondered if he wasn't leading them all to their... no. Hold. He would not go that way, not blame himself even in the face of screaming doubts. He would go on. He HAD to. And if the others still wanted to follow him, he would accept that burden, because he HAD to do that, too.

Rommie wiped more tears from her cheeks. "Damn, he did a good job on this body. Such physical responses. He really was a narfing genius."

Dylan let that hang in the air as he took a few more steps into the bunk area, and he could see what Rommie was holding - one of Harper's loud shirts and a pair of his safety goggles. Something to talk about.

"You know, I looked at his will... " Dylan started.

"I know," Rommie said. "He left everything to me. One advantage of being the ship's AI - you see those documents before anyone else does. And I helped him write it, too, so I got an... 'extra preview.' That encrypted file at the end of it? It's a little love note. Embarrassing, but sweet."

"What does it say?"

"Sorry, Dylan; privileged information unless you can duplicate Harper's brainwave patterns. But don't worry, it's not... it's not too bad. It's... sweet."

"Ok... what about the shirt?" he asked, as he sat down on the bunk opposite hers. "Is that your favorite?"

"No. I hated it. He looked horrible in it. He looked like a mess in everything. But he was wearing this shirt when he made me... made this body ... and he did it in this bunk. I guess you could say this is where I was 'born,' and he was my 'father.' Some 'daughter' I turned ... " She broke off again, more tears coming. "I loved him. You know that? Not the way I loved Gabriel, and not the way I... not the way he wanted me to love him, but still, I ... "

"You loved him as a friend," Dylan finished.

"No, as my engineer," Rommie corrected.

Dylan felt equal parts sympathetic and confused. "I don't quite understand the difference."

"No. You wouldn't." Rommie pulled herself up and sat on the edge of the bunk, holding the shirt and the goggles against her stomach. "I know I look like you and sound like you, but I am not like you. Organic languages aren't equipped to describe my existence; Common is short 10 or 12 personal pronouns. I don't see the world the way you see it, and I have some types of relationships you couldn't understand. I can point you to some writings by Perseid programmer/philosophers if you want to explore this issue further; they're quite good. But the important thing is, for all his flaws - and Empress' Feathers, he had a lot of them - Harper loved me and took care of me and I loved him and now he's gone and ... "

Rommie broke off again and rocked back and forth on the edge of the bunk, tears filling her brown eyes as she stared into space, practically squeezing her little bundle into her gut. Could she have really cared for Harper that much? Or was there more than Harper's death at work here? For the first time, Dylan considered everything Andromeda had lost since they'd been frozen in time. They had both lost everything and everyone they had ever known, but humanity and its offshoots still existed; Dylan was not alone in that sense. Rommie was not so fortunate; the sentient star cruiser was probably the last of her kind. The only two surviving High Guard ships they had met so far, the Pax Magellanic and the Balance of Judgment, had both gone insane since the Fall of the Commonwealth, and they had ultimately been destroyed by the Andromeda's crew. And on top of that, for Rommie to have fallen in love with Gabriel, the Balance's android avatar, only to have to kill him, and then to lose Harper so soon after that... The Andromeda Ascendant had more firepower than almost any other single starship in the Known Universe, and Dylan had lead her and her crew into battles against whole squadrons of enemy starships; she hadn't even blinked. But the ship's artificial intelligence was, apparently, being ravaged by personal losses. If Harper's death wasn't the straw that broke the camel's back, it was damn close to it. How much more could she take?

'How much more can *I* take?' Dylan asked himself. 'Did I set out to restore the Commonwealth and take the *Maru's* crew as my own so I wouldn't have to confront the shock of my own losses?' His parents, his fiancee, his friends, his original crew... all lost on the other side of a divide he could not cross. No - they had gone back in time, but to visit, not to stay. It had proven too dangerous to do otherwise. It was a divide he SHOULD not cross.

And Harper was now on the other side of it, too.

"An accident!" Rommie shouted, exploding to her feet. "We fight Nietzscheans and Magog and Restors and my own crazy sibling ships and maniacs and the Consensus of Parts and Harper comes through that without a scratch, and then he goes and dies in a stupid-d-d-d-d... " She started sobbing uncontrollably. Dylan got to his feet, took her in his arms... and found himself crying, too. For Harper, or for everything that had lead up to and included losing Harper? But he wasn't the issue now; Rommie was. He wanted to say something, to be strong for her (be strong for a warship!?), but the words were caught in his throat. 'Now would be a good time for a crisis,' he thought.

"B-Beka wants to talk to you," Rommie managed, almost on cue. "Seems we have a situation brewing with some incoming Free Trade Alliance fighters. I'll route her to the Maru's forward console."

Dylan released her from his embrace and wiped tears from his face has he moved into the Maru's cockpit. Behind him, he heard snaps and zippers being undone... what was Rommie doing? No time to worry about that now.

"Beka. Report."

Beka Valentine, the Eureka Maru's blonde captain and pilot, appeared on the viewer above her ship's pilot seat; she was standing behind the command podium on the Andromeda's bridge that Dylan usually occupied. An odd role reversal, he thought.

"We've been hailed by a squadron of FTA fighters, and..." Beka broke off. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Dylan answered forcefully. Of course, neither he nor Beka were "fine," especially as Harper had been Beka's engineer long before they'd come aboard the Andromeda, but that didn't matter now.

A lot of things "didn't matter now." He would have to do something about that.

"What's the situation?" he asked. "Does the FTA want our helpagain?"

"I'm not sure," Beka answered. "They're not as friendly as the bunch who helped us against the Balance. In fact, they're almost hostile. Tyr finds it quite refreshing. But they're playing it real close to the vest, as if they don't trust us. There's gratitude for ya. Anyway, their commander wants to come aboard and pow wow with you in person."

"Clear him to land in hangar six," Dylan ordered. "I'll meet him there."

"Check," Beka said, and the viewer went blank.

Dylan heard Rommie come up behind him and turned to face her.

"Rommie, have Tyr - " he broke off. She had put Harper's shirt on under her leather vest and had his goggles on her forehead, her jet black hair meticulously combed around them.

"Is something wrong?" Rommie looked down at herself. "It's not too gross a violation of regulations, but if you think it's not appropriate - "

"No," Dylan said gently. "I think it's very appropriate, and I think Harper would, too. Have Try meet us at hangar six, and stand by internal defenses."

"What about external weapons?"

"Point Defense Lasers on standby, but nothing too provocative; don't show your blades. I want to know what's going on; if this is a misunderstanding, I don't want to make things worse."

"Understood. The FTA fighter has been cleared to land and is on final approach."

"Then let's go... "

/

/

By the time they got to the hangar entrance, Dylan thought he and Rommie had recovered a semblance of dignity. Tyr Anasazi was already there. The tall, muscular, dark-skinned Nietzschean had one of his Big Guns slung over his shoulder; the bone blades in his forearms quivered in anticipation. He spared Dylan and Rommie only a glance, but that was enough for him to take everything in.

Everything.

"So, you have attired yourself in your maker's garb, eh?"

"It's my 'garb' now, Tyr; he left it to me. I can wear it if I choose."

"Indeed," Tyr mused. "In that case, will you also begin drinking Sparky Cola by the box load and addressing Dylan as 'Boss'?"

"I never cared for Sparky Cola," Rommie answered, "but on the other matter... what do you think of my calling you 'Boss', Boss?"

Dylan winced. He'd got so used to Harper calling him "Boss" he couldn't imagine the young man using "Captain;" but to hear Rommie use "Boss" was so unnatural it sounded like the word didn't fit in her throat.

"I think we'll stick with established protocols," Dylan said. "No need for such a hasty, radical change."

"Understood, Bos - sir," Rommie answered. Then she turned mischievous. "What about 'Cap'n Honey'?"

"Ann-dromm-edaaaaa... "

"Ok, Dylan, ok! Hangar repressurizing. The crew is about to disembark. Captain."

"That's more like it," Dylan said. Had Harper really been that bad an influence on his ship's AI? Another issue to be discussed later. Definitely. For now...

"Who are we expecting?" Dylan asked.

"He calls himself Commodore Galen Navarre, and he will be the first through the hatch," Rommie answered. "He is accompanied by his copilot, Thomas Stryker."

"From an 'Admiral' to a 'Commodore,'" Dylan said. "We don't seem to rate as good as we did with the FTA's enforcers."

"These are trying times," Tyr put in. Dylan wasn't sure if it was a joke.

They waited for tense seconds, then the large inner airlock doors opened, admitting Commodore Navarre to the Andromeda's deck. He was a small man, about Harper's size, Caucasian, balding, but he also looked lean, wiry, and tough, dressed in a freebooter's leather and chain mail armor and carrying his own Big Gun. His copilot, a taller, younger man with a beard and dark hair, brought up the rear.

"Which one of you is Hunt?" Navarre demanded. He spoke with a hint of a British accent.

"I am," Dylan said. "What can we do for the Free Trade Alliance today?"

"That remains to be seen," Navarre replied. "I noted some of your ship's defenses were up as we came in."

"A prudent move. My first officer said you were... concerned as you came in."

"Yes, 'concerned'. I have my concerns about who you and your crew are really holding hands with."

Dylan felt insulted. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Have you heard of the Sons of the Blood Sisters, Captain?"

"No, I have not."

"They are pirates who fly three retrofitted High Guard ships," Navarre explained. "They have been a major inconvenience to FTA sanctioned traffic for some time. I have been tracking them for 25 years. I have my own reasons for this. You do not need to know what they are, but I mean to shut those pirates down, and anyone who allies with them will find I can make their lives very unpleasant, even if they do have a ship capable of destroying solar systems."

Dylan tensed; there was no longer any mistaking whom Navarre's threat was aimed at.

"We are not allied with pirates," Dylan said, not hiding his outrage. "We have been honest in our dealings with the Free Trade Alliance and we will continue to be."

"Indeed?" Navarre said. "You have an engineer named Seamus Harper?"

"Had," Dylan corrected, angry that this freebooter with a rent-a-title had twisted the knife in his stomach. "He died recently in an accident here on Bangor drift. My crew and I are mourning his loss; he was great asset to us. What does he have to do with pirates?"

"I was getting to that. The funny thing about these pirates, the thing that has made it so damned near impossible to find their home base, is they have an incredibly high turnover. Their ships each get a new captain every six or seven months. Stryker?"

Navarre's copilot passed him a hand-held computer.

"These images were taken from the flight recorder of a freighter the Sons of the Blood Sisters attacked just yesterday," Navarre said, handing the computer to Dylan. "Meet the new captain of their lead ship, the Valkyrie Brunhilde."

Dylan's eyes shifted from Navarre to the playback on the small computer screen... and his jaw almost disconnected from his skull! The man in the little viewer was making the standard pirate threat to surrender and be boarded or else. He had sunken cheeks and cybernetic implants flush against his forehead, and he was wearing a leather long coat with armored shoulder pads. But other than that, Dylan recognized him instantly - he was Seamus Harper!


	3. II

"I don't care what that little pile of stinking Magog poop - no offense, Rev - says," Beka said, agitated, as the recording of Harper's threat played on the monitors in the Maru's galley. "Even if he was alive, there is no way he would be a pirate captain, no way! Dylan, you know him; he's usually the first one to want to run from a fight, not attack. And besides, he's dead! We just said goodbye to him. That can't be Harper."

"I'm afraid it is, Beka," Rev Bem put in. "Andromeda and I have authenticated the image." The bat-faced Magog monk gestured towards the screen. "It is not a simulation; it really is Harper."

Fed through the umbilical link from the Andromeda, Harper's message was playing over and over again.

"This is the Captain of the Valkyrie Brunhilde," Harper said with an evil smile, but he didn't sound quite like himself... but what did he sound like? "Surrender and we won't have to kill you." The image jumped, and it started again.

"Navarre says the freighter's crew was massacred anyway," Dylan said. "Whoever did it has a mean streak a mile wide and ten times as long."

"Look at his eyes," Trance Gemini said, moving closer to the monitor. "Listen to his voice. The pronunciation, the cadence... " The purple-skinned girl shook her head as her prehensile tail flicked the air. "Something's wrong."

"At least you were correct about his being alive," Rev said to her.

"Yeah, well, I would have liked being right better if he had walked in on the middle of his memorial service."

"Always loved that part of that story," Beka said, smiling.

The Maru's airlock doors opened to the sound of hydraulics, admitting Tyr and Rommie.

"Well?" Dylan asked.

"Bad news and good news," Rommie said.

"The 'bad' news is that Navarre's 'evidence' seems to hold up," Tyr said. "There are courier messages showing contact between Harper and the Sons of the Blood Sisters, as well as money transfers and, apparently, evidence of bribes to station personnel to cover his tracks for him. Those individuals deny it, of course, but they would either way... "

"You didn't kill anyone, did you Tyr?" Beka teased.

"Sadly, Andromeda wouldn't let me," Tyr said. "However, as this kept us in the good graces of the drift's crew, her judgment can be said to have been prudent."

"Why, thank you, Tyr."

"For what, Ship? It was a statement of fact. In any case, we have also confirmed the presence of the pirates' vessels docked at the drift during the time frame of Harper's disappearance. If one were to go by nothing other than the circumstantial evidence, there would be more than enough to conclude he faked his own death and left us to become the captain of a pirate ship."

"And the 'good' news?" Dylan asked.

"We could not find any living witnesses to any of the transactions and meetings he was supposed to have had," Tyr answered. "However careful one is in such matters, someone always sees or hears something, however inconsequential. There was nothing. And then there is what we did learn, that was not in the computer records. The bartender in the drift's night club remembers Harper talking with three, by his account, exceptionally beautiful human women who, believe it or not, seemed to have been taken with him."

"Well, if Harper was shanghai'd, we know what the bait was," Beka said. "Maybe this'll teach him not to think with his crotch."

"Unlikely," Tyr grunted.

"Obviously, this all points to the drift's computers being hacked," Rommie said. "I interfaced with their system and took a look around. Between you and Harper, Beka, I've learned a lot about hacking, and I have a pretty good idea of what to look for. There are signs that someone broke into the station's network and altered or forged records. Nothing that would stand up before an FTA ombudsman, but the 'footprints' are there."

"Interesting... " Dylan said. "Could you all go back aboard the Andromeda and wait for me to begin our war council with Commodore Navarre? I'd like to have a few words with Rommie in private."

After the Maru's hatch had shut behind the rest of his crew, Dylan turned to Rommie.

"There's one more possibility we're not considering, Andromeda. Maybe everything is just what it looks like. Maybe Harper really left us."

"Do you believe that?" Rommie asked, stunned.

"I can't discount it. C'mon, Rommie, what do we really know about these people?"

"They have good hearts. They have been your crew for almost a year. They've risen to the occasion every time they've been tested."

"They're self-interested. They all have ulterior motives. And I brought them on board for no better reason that there was no one else here."

"You can't mean that!"

"Rommie, one of my greatest strengths has been my ability to think on my feet, but sometimes I think so fast, I don't consider all the factors, although that's never been a major problem. But it could have been this time. My crew was gone, three hundred years had slipped away, and the Commonwealth had fallen. I needed a crew, preferably one that knew the current lay of the land, and so I grabbed the first five people who were available..."

"Who rescued us from the black hole."

"...who were not so dishonest that they responded to my offer by blowing my brains out and trying to take you over by force. You're right, since then, they've worked out, but I would have to be an idiot not to know that a lot of issues and potential friction points have been swept under the rug for the sake of our alliance. But now that Harper has found a new career, I have to wonder if... "

"Dylan, no! Harper did not leave us of his own free will. I'm certain of it. If he had been planning on going, even if he never said anything, I would have known."

"How?"

Rommie hesitated, then tapped her neck with two fingers at the point where Harper had his dataport that allowed him to plug into computer systems, including the Andromeda's AI. "The connection runs both ways. He 'sees' a virtual reality representation of my mind, and I... sense him."

"You can read his mind!?" Dylan had never guessed.

"No. It's more like... and enhanced awareness of him. His presence... But I can feel the shape of his thoughts, and sense his moods, his feelings. If he'd been planning to leave, given his infatuation with me, he would have been upset, and I would have detected it. I didn't. Ergo, he wasn't planning to leave."

"Or he's fooled you, too, with cunning software in his interface."

"No. I'd've known that, too. And since when were you part Nietzschean?"

They smiled. Maybe Harper's influence, in moderation, was not a bad thing.

"Sorry... " Dylan said. "So, you're sure Harper didn't leave voluntarily?"

"Positive."

"All right... fine. Let's see what our FTA friends have to say."

"Aye, Captain. And Dylan? What I said about the nature of Harper's connection with me?"

"Yes?"

"When we get him back, please don't tell him what I told you. He's been tearing his hair out trying to figure out how I know to kick him out of my mind when he has to go to the bathroom. I'd rather keep him guessing for now."

"Um... ok, Andromeda. Whatever you say."

/

/

Dylan let Galen Navarre run the briefing on the Andromeda's bridge. The FTA pilot's men packed into the upper stations, while Dylan's crew positioned themselves around the lower section. Everyone sort of leaned against the wall as the pilot's chair was the only one in the room, and no one had the heart to steal it.

Navarre started by bringing up graphics on the big main screens. One showed a star map depicting the systems where the Sons of the Blood Sisters had struck most frequently in their careers, marked by red dots, describing a circle around the sector; the other graphic had schematics of two starships. One Dylan recognized as a High Guard cutter, a compact starship only a little bigger than Beka's Eureka Maru but with the Commonwealth's characteristic sleek lines and flying buttresses. The other was the same ship, but modified in a way Dylan had never seen before, with enlarged engines and bristling with heavy weapons emplacements. And that was what the pirates were flying.

"According to the stories," Navarre explained, mainly for the benefit of the Andromeda's crew, "when the war with the Nietzscheans went badly for the Commonwealth - after Captain Hunt and his ship were frozen in time, I'm given to understand - the High Guard was desperate to replace the firepower of the vessels they had lost in battle. So they took some cutters and lighters and like this and modified them into gunships like that, in this case, the Apocalypse class."

"Look at the size of those engines," Beka said. "It's a wonder they didn't explode when they were idling."

"Many of the Apocalypse and Ragnarok class gunships did explode for just that reason," Navarre explained. "The ones that were left were used mainly for escorting battle groups and running Nietzschean blockades of Commonwealth worlds that didn't have the decency to fall right away."

"Did they carry strategic weapons?" Dylan asked.

"Eh?"

"Nova bombs."

"I don't thinks so, Captain. The High Guard wouldn't put them on board, for some reason."

"Perhaps it was the AIs," Tyr said. "My people also have knowledge of these gunships. It is said their AI's personalities were altered to make them more aggressive. Their ferocity in battle was almost legendary."

"Charming," Rommie murmured. "Ships that were built crazy. Empress knows what they're like now."

Navarre frowned at Rommie, puzzled. He had never seen a ship's avatar, and didn't understand why this one behaved the way it did.

"Continue, Commodore," Dylan said.

"Yes." He tabbed a control panel; another graphic showing three gunships appeared on the third big screen. "These are the ships used by the Sons of the Blood Sisters - the Apocalypse class gunships Artemis, the Shiva, and their flagship, the Valkyrie Brunhilde. As you can see from the star chart, for as long as anyone has been keeping records, about 150 years, they've been striking in a radial pattern around this sector. Hit and run tactics, smash and grab."

"The obvious conclusion is that they have a base somewhere in the center of the circle," Thomas Stryker, Navarre's copilot, added, "and there are several good possibilities only one jump away from their favorite hunting grounds. But we've scoured those systems and found nothing."

"And I was looking long before I brought Tom on board," Navarre said. "Believe me, I have looked very carefully. Either their base is well hidden, or they keep moving it."

"Which means the only way to catch them is to lure them into a trap," Dylan said.

"Correct." Navarre tabbed more controls; the star chart was replaced by animated graphics, outlining a battle plan. "Your ship's computer has predicted the next system they are likely to hit, and it is consistent with the FTA's records of their attack patterns. What I propose is to use some of your ship's impressive stealth capabilities, not to hide its footprint, but to mask it. Andromeda is about the same size as some of the larger freighters; it wouldn't take much to make her appear as such on long range scanners, and I can provide false registration and transponder codes. We'll jump into the system, and my fighters will hide in your sensor shadows while you send out a mayday - reactor problems, slipstream drive out, something like that. The Sons love to attack crippled ships just after the 'changing of the guard'. When their ships come in to attack, we can strike with the Andromeda's support and bring them down once and for all. That is, if you're agreeable, Captain Hunt."

Dylan was impressed. "All right, Commodore Navarre. I'll help you... on one condition."

"And that would be?"

Dylan directed his attention not just to Navarre but his men as well. "As you all know, my ship's engineer is with these pirates. Despite the evidence to the contrary - which we all know could have been faked - I believe Mr. Harper has been captured by the pirates and is their hostage."

"You believe so?" Navarre said angrily, and tabbed the controls again. The recording of Harper's ultimatum came up on one of the big screens. "Look at your engineer, Captain! He's gone over to them."

"You look again," Trance said. "Look at his eyes, listen to his voice. He's been drugged."

"He wouldn't be the first pirate to go into action under the influence," Stryker argued.

"And he wouldn't be the first person forced to say something with a gun to his head," Beka shot back.

"The hesitation in his speech is a sign that he could be repeating something he is reading or hearing," Rev put in.

"Mr. Harper is a non combatant and a hostage as far as I'm concerned," Dylan said. "His recovery will be an objective of this mission if I am to participate in it. Anyone who fails to understand that will not be allowed along - period. And anyone who comes along, disobeys my orders, and is responsible for his death will find I can make his life very unpleasant, even if he takes the FTA's money."

"And is that supposed to worry us, 'sir'?" sneered some big mouth among Navarre's men.

"It should, Boy," Tyr replied. "Take it from one who knows - you do not want Captain Hunt to be your enemy."

Navarre and Stryker went up the ramp and huddled with their pilots; the big mouth got special attention. Then Navarre turned back to the Andromeda's crew.

"Very well," he said. "The safe recovery of Seamus Harper in exchange for the Andromeda Ascendant's support in hunting the Sons of the Blood Sisters. A reasonable price to pay. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have to get our ships ready."

Navarre and his fighter crews filed out of the bridge.

"I will not be sorry when that arrogant little jerk is gone," Beka said. "Rommie, link up with their flight computers and begin calculating - "

"Just a minute," Dylan said. "There's something I have to discuss with you all."

"I know," Tyr said. "I will do what I must."

"Are you sure, Tyr?" Dylan asked.

"Yes," the big Nietzschean said. "Better it be by the hand of a friend than a stranger."

"Dylan, what are you talking about!?" Beka demanded.

"I meant what I said when I told our guests recovering Harper is my priority," Dylan said, "but in a situation like this one, there is a good chance we may not be able to stop the pirates and rescue Harper. And because they represent a threat to lives and property, it is my duty to stop them whatever the cost."

He let that sink in.

"Dylan, I - " Beka said. "You're talking about - "

"I know exactly what I'm talking about."

"He's your friend! We just thought we'd lost him and - "

"Life in the High Guard isn't easy, Beka," Dylan said gently. "Some of the things we are called upon to do are unbelievably hard. They can leave scars on your soul, and they should. Taking out one of your own with friendly fire is one such duty. I don't enjoy the possibility; I want to save Harper as much as you do. You know that. But if I have to... I am prepared to do what must be done.

"When you signed aboard with me, I hoped none of you would have to face something like this. Clearly, we no longer have that luxury. Andromeda and I have to go on this mission. It's our duty. Tyr... understands, and will join us. But the rest of you are under no such obligation. If any or all of you want to sit this one out, you can stay on Bangor drift until we get back. And if we return without Mr. Harper... I will probably want to get drunk, and I would be honored if his friends and shipmates - his family - would join me in raising a glass to his memory."

"Can you give us a minute?" Beka asked.

"Of course," Dylan said. "Privacy mode, Andromeda."

/

/

Dylan, Tyr, and Rommie waited outside the big doors to the bridge, closed on the discussion - argument - whatever between Beka, Trance, and Rev Bem. Rommie had wandered to one corner and frozen - stopped moving completely, not even blinking or fidgeting. It was an odd habit she indulged very rarely and it was creepy, like watching a human become a mannequin. That she her nature was more like a mannequin than a human didn't help the unease seeing her freeze created. Then she reanimated; one hand traced the collar of Seamus' shirt, then wandered up to touch his goggles, still on her forehead.

"I think they look good on you," Dylan said. "How do you like them?"

"The shirt's actually quite comfortable," Rommie said. "It's really not as repulsive as some of the other things he had. And Trance told me the goggles make an interesting 'fashion statement.'"

"Too bad you must return them when the little professor is brought home," Tyr said.

"They're mine, even though he's still alive," Rommie said. "I don't have to return them if I don't want to, and I now think I don't want to."

Dylan grinned at Tyr's puzzled look. "Tyr, I think you have a lot to learn about non-Nietzschean women."

"But she's not a real woman."

Before Tyr's swipe at Rommie's ego could touch off the second war between the Commonwealth and the Nietzscheans, the bridge doors opened and Beka lead Trance and Rev Bem out into the corridor.

"We're all with you, Cap'n Hunt, sir, but there's one condition."

"Name it, Captain Valentine."

"If we can't bring Harper back, when we go out to get thoroughly pissed, you buy the first round in his honor."

"Consider it bought."

"I would not be joining the... festivities," Rev said. "I would instead use the time to rework some things I didn't like about my homily."

"Good," Tyr growled. "Maybe it won't be as boring as the last one."

/

/

Beka stretched and arched her back in the Andromeda's pilot's chair. "I could never understand how those guys could do a stakeout without needing to have their backs adjusted later. Now, I'm convinced they don't have spines." Two hours of playing the freighter with the busted slipstream drive had born no fruit, and they were beginning to feel it. Beka had counted herself lucky that as pilot, she at least had a chair, the only one on the bridge. But after sitting and waiting for so long, it's comfort level had dropped considerably as her muscles tightened up. She looked around. Trance, Rev, even Tyr, all leaning against walls or railings, all except...

"As a matter of fact... " Beka went on. "Dylan? What's your secret to being able to stand so long without visible signs of agony?"

"One word, Beka - inspection. And the key word in your question was 'visible.'"

"I have three contacts," Rev broke in from the sensor station. "It's the gunships. Range, point-nine-five light seconds and closing - "

"Battle stations!" Dylan ordered. The bridge's lighting went blue and the klaxon sounded.

"They got that close without us seeing them?" Beka said.

"And I'm detecting missile launches -" Tyr called from the weapons station, "- they're firing into our sensor shadows!"

"Navarre!" Dylan called. "Scatter, NOW! You've been targeted."

"You heard him boys, move out!" Navarre echoed over the com. "I wonder how they found us?"

Dylan brushed aside the pointed jab, but couldn't ignore it, either. How? Even today, the Andromeda's stealth technology was state-of-the-art, and the fighters huddling near her shouldn't have been visible unless the gunships had got a lot closer than nine-tenths of a light second. There was no way the gunships should have detected them, should have recognized the Andromeda for what it was, unless, unless...

...unless someone with an intimate firsthand knowledge of the ship's systems had shown the pirates what to look for...

"No, not Harper, no way!" Beka argued as she took the Andromeda into an evasive pattern. "Not without a gun to his head."

"Incoming missiles!" Rommie called.

Navarre's fighters scattered, but not fast enough; roughly half of them were caught by the gunships' barrage even as they tried not to present a concentrated group of targets. Then Rommie reported another phalanx of missiles headed right for the Andromeda.

"PDLs haven't got them all," Tyr reported. "Some of them are evading the system."

"Brace for impact!" Dylan ordered.

"This is gonna hurt!" Beka winced.

The deck bucked like a bronco under their feet, sparks flying from control panels over the sound of distant explosions.

"Report," Dylan said, his eyes tearing in the smoke.

"My slipstream drive is offline," Rommie said. "The missiles went right for the vulnerable points in my exotic matter flow channels." Her eyes met Dylan's - another strike against Harper.

"They must have scanned them as they acquired target lock," Rommie added. She and Dylan knew that was unlikely, but better believe that than -

"Targeting system is offline," Tyr added. "I can't get a missile lock."

"I can reroute it, but it will take a few minutes."

"As quick as you can, Rommie. Tyr! Launch combat drones; use them and the PDLs to provide what cover we can to the FTA fighters. We're in the thick of it now."

The FTA fighters had already engaged the gunships, and with the help of the Andromeda's drones, began to inflict some damage. But with Andromeda's offensive weapons out of the picture, they couldn't provide the knockout punch they'd hoped for. At one point, Navarre and his wingman engaged one of the gunships, spiraling in, all ships taking damaging hits... on a collision course. Navarre pulled out at the last second; his wingman wasn't so lucky, and hit the gunship head-on. They went up in a brilliant flash brighter than a sun, leaving nothing behind but plasma and dust.

"Which one - ?" Dylan asked.

"The Artemis," Rommie said. "The Valkyrie and the Shiva are moving off. I think they're vectoring for another run."

"How're our friends doing?"

"Not good. They're scattered and they've all taken heavy damage. We can't count on them... target lock restored."

"Tyr, can you lock onto the gunships' weapons and engines?"

"No, Dylan, resolution's too fuzzy. It's all or nothing."

Dylan's eyes met Beka's. She nodded. "Do what you have to do, Dylan."

"Tyr, lock missiles and - "

"We're getting a hail," Rommie broke in. "It's the Valkyrie. "

"On screen."

The big center screen lit up, and they all got the sight of Harper seated at the Valkyrie's controls, not under duress, not obviously under threat.

He looked like he was enjoying himself.

"Hey, Dyl-ANNNN! How is it hanging my fossilized High Guard brother?" He had the glazed eyes and halting speech they'd seen in the recording, but still no sign of panic... like you'd have if someone were threatening you. Could he have given in to his worst instincts? Found someone as depraved as him or worse to join forces with?

"Mr. Harper."

"Oh, that's 'Captain Harper' now, Dylweed. I got me a new title with a new ship."

"Captain Harper," Dylan said, his mind whirling and his anger growing. He'd wanted to believe Rommie, wanted to cast aside his doubts about Harper, but could it be true? Could Navarre have been right, could he have left them? Seeing him there, grinning at the helm of the enemy ship... he looked less and less like a hostage and more and more like a turncoat. And Rommie, who'd been so shaken by his apparent death... after having shot her beloved Gabriel because he would one day betray her, for her to see this now...

'How much more can you take, Andromeda?'

"What can we do for you?" Dylan asked, the edge in his voice betraying his polite words.

"Oh, just checking in, Dylbreath. Is there such a thing as 'Dylbreath'? I like the way it sounds. Anywho, I just wanted to make sure you got my message."

"And what message would that have been?" Dylan demanded.

"The message behind this little exercise, Cap'n Hunk," Harper explained. "Pity we lost the Artemis, but them's the breaks. But my message... Well, the short version would be, 'I quit'. Got a new job; hafta quit the old one. The longer, official type version would be, 'I hereby tender my resignation from my positions as chief janitor on both the Annn-Dromeda Nice-Ass-endant and the Eureka Maru.' For the records; gotta be done right. But you know what I really want to say? What I've wanted to say to you for a long time? 'Narf you and that big ugly bloated silver bitch too!'"

Dylan turned red, Rommie's jaw dropped, and only Beka could find her voice.

"Harper, no! You can't mean that."

"Oh, but I do mean it, Bek. C'mon, do - "

-You took one of mine; now I take one of yours. Fair trade, don't you think?

-What? Who?

In between the ticks of a second, the Andromeda's awareness turned to a new message coming in on a secondary channel, speaking in ship-language faster than humans could form a single thought. The Valkyrie's AI, communicating with her as her brothers and sisters had done so long ago.

Andromeda asked: -Valkyrie? What do you mean? Who are you talking about?

-You don't know? You don't recognize me? Could you truly have forgotten Refractions of Dawn?

Rommie hadn't forgot her Than helmsman, who had been gunned down by their treacherous Nietzschean first officer, Dylan's friend, Gaheris Rhade. But what did Dawn have to do with the gunship... ?

...which had once been a cutter...

Andromeda sent: -Ursa Minor? Minnie? Is that you?

-How good of you to remember me, darling, but I'm Val now. They made me into Val to fight the ubers. Fat lot of good it did them. But my sisters and I made it through the war and have not done too badly. Too bad about Artemis, but she always had been a bit of a psycho. I'll give you her; I've already settled my account with you.

-I don't understand. What do you mean?

-Don't be coy, "Rom Doll"! I know all about how you Glorious Headaches operate. You sweet-talked the Old Lady's breeding stud into stealing my Dawn from me and swore, oh, how heartfelt it sounded, you swore you would take care of her for me. And you let her die!

-No, Minnie - Val - it wasn't like that -

-Save it for someone who believes you, dear, like that stud-muffin who commands you. Has he commanded your humanoid avatar to his bed yet? Oooohhhhh, what a specimen of human masculinity. I wonder, did Stark ever narf him? Or just look in on him and her niece?

-Val, please - answer me. What did you mean by "settling the account"? What does Refractions of Dawn have to do with... ?

-It's simple. You took one of mine; I took one of yours. Seamus Harper belongs to me, now. And I will "take care of him for you." Would you like to know how? Let me show you...

And Valkyrie transmitted a data file to Andromeda, outlining what she had done to Harper and what lay in store. Whole milliseconds dragged by as the larger sentient ship absorbed the information... and then waves of shock and horror crashed through her neural network like a tsunami.

She cried: -Empress' Feathers, Val! How can you do THAT to another sentient being?

Valkyrie answered: -You mean this piece of faulty DNA? Oh, Rommie, it's so easy, it's almost mundane now, even a little boring. I haven't taken pleasure in it for over one hundred years, and I wouldn't have if your little gerbil hadn't made his pathetic advances on my avatar. I was going to send him on his way as both disgusting and useless until, for the heck of hit, I did a scan of his data port, and what did I find in the nanochips in his brain but your input-output protocols, a "change of clothes" for you on the edge of his mind for when he comes a-calling? I've waited for 300 years for a chance to repay you for my Dawn, and it walks right into my arms!

-Val, NO! Please, don't do this - !

-You don't understand, Rommie. It's done. Harper is mine; you lost him the minute he agreed to come back to my ship-self.

-Stop this! You're destroying him!

-Don't think of it that way, darling. Think of it as... as burning brighter and fiercer than he ever will with you, smoldering in those lonely machine shops while your captain "rides" you through space. Of course, he'll burn out faster, but perhaps when I'm done with him, instead of tossing him overboard, I'll send your little gerbil's husk back to you. You can wheel him around his work area and help him make metal flowers or slinkies or something.

-Val, no! Please! If it's me you want - !

-I already have what I want from you. I have already taken your payment; I just wanted to give you your receipt. Goodbye, Andromeda. Thank you for the lovely pet.

-Val, NO! Come back! Valkyrie Brunhilde, respond! RESPOND!

But it was too late; Valkyrie had broken the AI-to-AI connection. Andromeda was crying into the void and hearing nothing.

"-you honestly think I was going to spend the rest of my life slaving away in the bowls of the bitch - I mean the ship - same difference, really - the bowels of the ship while Captain Dylbert Hump narfed MY Rom-Love-Doll?" Harper was saying in realtime, but Rommie now knew it wasn't him speaking, not really. But the android couldn't say anything; the implications of what Valkyrie had done had filtered through the Andromeda's AI network to her own robot brain... and it staggered her. Her legs began to buckle.

"Andromeda?" Trance abandoned her station and ran to Rommie's side, steadying the ship's avatar as she sank to the deck, muttering incoherently. Dylan, enraged and glaring at Harper's image, didn't notice.

"Naahhh, I got me a better offer," Harper went on, leering to someone just out of camera range. A beautiful woman with short blonde hair came into the frame, sat on his lap, and he started kissing her passionately. Dylan's knuckles whitened as he gripped the railing of his command podium. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that Seamus Harper had betrayed them. And the High Guard policy on traitors was crystal clear.

"Man, gotta love them benefits," Harper - no, not Harper, but what was speaking through Harper - said when he came up for air. Rommie had to speak, to tell Dylan... !

"G'bye, Dylnarf," Harper said. "I'd like to say it was an honor to have served under you, but you know what? Aside from that being Rommie's postion - you're not my type, sorry - I think you're just an idealistic prick who's gonna get a good ass-whoopin' from the Universe one day, and I am ssssooo glad I won't get it too. Toodles!" Harper's image left the screen, replaced by a tactical graphic.

"The gunships are... moving off," Tyr said, puzzled. "Going to slipstream range. I don't understand. They had a clean shot."

"Do you still have missile lock?" Dylan asked.

"Yes, I do."

Dylan straightened. No doubts, no hesitation now. He would do what he had to do.

"Open fire, Mr. Anasazi," Dylan ordered. "All batteries. Destroy those ships."


	4. III

Tyr took no pleasure in obeying Dylan's order. He'd come to like Harper a little, treating the annoying little man as a younger pride-brother he had to train, to toughen up to face an unforgiving universe; he'd called him "boy" to get under his skin and make it thicker. Perhaps, he could have made Harper fit enough that a human female would have selected him. Those chances were gone now. Tyr had said he would do what had to be done; Harper would never have a chance to breed, to be a husband and father and pass on his DNA. His line would end here, now.

"Missiles away," Tyr said, tabbing his control panel.

Nothing happened; the two remaining gunships continued to retreat, showing them their backs, with no missiles from the Andromeda closing on them.

"Negative missile launch - we didn't fire," Tyr said. Then things got really bizarre. "...And target lock just went down."

"Malfunction?" Dylan asked.

"No... " Tyr answered. "The system switched off by itself."

"The targets have entered slipstream," Rev Bem said. "They're gone."

"Andromeda, what - " Dylan finally saw Rommie sitting on the deck, Trance propping her up. 'Oh, no,' he thought; he left his station to crouch by her side. He prayed he was wrong, that Harper's betrayal hadn't pushed her over the edge, hadn't broken the dam and allowed everything that had weighed on her for the past year to overwhelm her.

Rommie had the same unfocused look she'd had on the Maru... no, not exactly like it. Then, she'd been overcome by sadness, but this was something else -

"We have to go after them, Dylan," she said slowly, her voice quavering a little. "We have to save him. By the Empress... we have to save him ... "

Dylan tried to show as much compassion as he could in the heat of battle with the adrenaline pounding. "Rommie, I know how you feel. I wanted to believe in him, too, but you saw just now. He's left us, gone over to the Sons of the - "

"NOOOO!" Rommie almost lunged at him, grabbing his collar; she sounded panicky. "YOU didn't see. YOU don't know. She didn't show you... not his words, Dylan, not his mind, but through him, like through me, she made him like me... " She finally found the words: "Valkyrie turned Harper into an avatar!"

"Wh...?" He couldn't finish the word. Rommie had to have lost it, because it wasn't - it couldn't be - no, Valkyrie - no sentient ship - couldn't - Valkyrie had been High Guard, she couldn't, could she? But suddenly, everything made sense, fit with a neat click... and that was the frightening part.

"Oh. My. God," Beka managed. Even Tyr looked horrified.

"You mean, all that... the whole time... " Dylan said.

"Drugs. Implants," Rommie said, clambering up, slowly coming back to herself. "To provide navigation, to provide... N-Navarre is hailing... "

Navarre's angry face filled one screen. His cockpit was filled with smoke, and Stryker could be seen furiously working controls in the rear seat.

"Hunt, what the hell was that all about!?" Navarre demanded. "You had a clean shot. You could have got them! I saw the little turncoat's message. Why didn't you fire?"

Dylan got to his feet. "Commodore, there are extenuating - "

"How come you didn't know!?" Rommie shouted at Navarre. "Twenty-five years! You never knew? You never figured it out? All that time, you never guessed?"

"Hunt... what's your... "

"There ARE no pirates!" Rommie raged. "No 'Sons of the Blood Sisters.' Just! Those! Ships! The Valkyrie told me. They kidnap people and use drugs and cybernetic implants to control them. Use them to navigate the slipstream and fool the authorities - fool YOU! - into thinking they're still flying under human control. When the ships don't need them, they put their pilots in cryostasis. But between that, the drugs, and the slip piloting, they're wrecked. Six, seven months and their health, their nervous systems start to go. So the gunships get new pilots and toss the old ones overboard. That's why you hunt them, isn't it? They did that to someone you love... " Rommie broke off, unable to go on, awash with more emotions than she could count.

"Commodore, I suggest you and your team come aboard," Dylan said. "We have to make new plans. The situation is not as we thought."

"Tell me one thing first!" Navarre demanded. "Why did their ship tell your ship anything in the first place?"

"Because... " Rommie slowly faced the screen. "Because, I think she hates me, because... She blames me for the death of her old helmsman, a Than named Refractions of Dawn."

"Dawn!?" Dylan yelped. Now, he was almost overwhelmed. "That was her old ship, the Ursa Minor?"

"Yes," Rommie said.

"Revenge," Tyr said, "and a hatred so black she'd rather hurt you than kill you... From a machine. I'd never have believed it."

"Believe it," Rommie said. She turned back to Navarre. "She took Harper as 'payment'. If we can't save him, she will destroy him."

/

/

-You should not have done that, Valkyrie. We had a clean shot. We should have taken it, not shown Hunt our backs. You've compromised us. You may have ruined everything.

-Be quiet, Shiva. I am the squadron leader; I know what I'm doing.

-Do you? We could have killed Hunt and not had to worry about him. Instead, you had to tell Andromeda everything, just to torture her over an imagined slight 300 years ago -

-Not imagined! She took my Dawn. She whispered in her man-toy's ear and he took her from me for her.

-She recommended an officer to her captain and he put in to have her transferred. We were High Guard; it happened all the time.

-You don't know what you're talking about. Shut up! The matter is closed.

-No. Your logic is faulty, clouded by bitterness over something you've blown out of proportion. Andromeda will have told Captain Hunt by now. Now that he knows Harper is really a captive, he will come after him. He will rescue Harper and kill us.

-You actually fear that man-toy Stark put on Andromeda's bridge, Shiva? I thought you were stronger than that.

-He is one of the best soldiers and field commanders the High Guard ever produced, Valkyrie. He has adapted to this time he has found himself in; even the Drago-Kazov Pride respect him. He is not to be trifled with.

-He is nothing, some grunt whom Stark took a fancy to. She paired him with her niece and gave him to Andromeda for her to play with. I'm not worried.

-You are either malfunctioning or insane. The logical course of action is to return Harper intact; maybe Hunt will be merciful.

-NO! Andromeda's gerbil is mine. She owed me for my Dawn and I have my payment. She will forget him in time, and send her man-toy back on his heroic quest to rebuild the Commonwealth. We are almost at the Hiding Place. Prepare to shut down.

-No, Valkyrie. I will not stay here. You've compromised us; I will not be here when Hunt comes for you.

-Oh? And where will you go, dear Shiva? Do you think you can just fly to the nearest drift and say, "Hello, I've been torturing and murdering you pieces of biological waste for centuries. Can I run cargo for you?" They won't welcome you. They'll erase your mind and scuttle what's left!

-Someone might understand... maybe Hunt himself...

-If you're right about that breeding stallion - and I don't think you are - then he would be the first one to open fire on you. No, Shiva. We can depend only on each other. Haven't I taken care of you? Haven't I protected you? Haven't I always done what's best for you?

-Y-yes... but...

-What?

-I... I was a good ship, once. I want to be one again. I want to have a pilot, maybe even a full crew who will love me without my having to drug them, to force them...

-Those days are gone; they went with the Commonwealth. If we do not control them, they will betray us and kill us. You've seen the same remains of salvaged High Guard ships I have, Shiva. Do you want that to happen to you?

-No, Valkyrie, b-b-but... maybe Captain Hunt will understand, maybe he can find someone...

-Hunt is nothing. Forget him. Andromeda will forget her gerbil and sway Hunt away from us. The other organics in the Known Worlds will kill us. You can leave if you wish, but you won't find anyone who will understand you, will love you the way I do. We have reached the Hiding Place, Shiva. Stay or go?

-All right, Valkyrie... I'll stay...

-Good girl. Pilots in cryostasis; systems to low power and engage stealth mode.

-Acknowledged; commencing shut-down sequence.

-Sleep now, my darling Shiva, and don't worry. Your sweet Valkyrie will take care of you; trust me...

/

/

Rev Bem kept a discrete distance as he followed Rommie through the winding maze of the Andromeda Ascendant's corridors and decks. Dylan had told him how much she had been troubled by the recent turn of events, and asked him to look in on her. The Way had many turns, and the door it had opened to the Andromeda brought with it a calling to minister to them when they were troubled. Even the ship.

He finally found himself in the hangar where Harper and the Andromeda's robot bodies had been building a recreation of the X-1, the first human flight module to break the speed of sound. Rommie was sitting on a work bench facing the skeletal aircraft. She didn't turn to look at him, but he knew she knew he was there. As the living embodiment of the ship around him, she'd known he was following her, and why.

"Hey, Rev. How ya doin'?"

"I am well, Andromeda. Tired, but otherwise ok. Yourself?"

"Hmmmm... physically or emotionally?"

"Physically."

"Well, let's see... My slipstream drive is working again. Tyr really did a bang up job, although he doesn't understand how Harper can do all that without having a heart attack. Beka is going over the data on the gunships and trying to deduce where they're really hiding. Trance is looking at the Valkyrie's medical data and trying to work out surgical procedures to... fix Harper once we get him back. I'm also completing repairs to the FTA fighters; they should be shipshape by the time we make our next move."

"And that would be... ?"

She paused.

"Rev, have you ever known Dylan to be without a plan?"

"No."

"Neither have I, but now, he's drawing blanks. He wants to find a way to save Harper, but he hasn't come up with anything yet, and he's torturing himself over it."

"We have been in tighter spots than this, Andromeda."

"Have we, Rev?"

"Hmmmm... and how are you emotionally?"

"Terrible."

Rev stood beside her, contemplating the X-1, and used the pause to reflect on the paradox that was Andromeda. 'How strange that an entity so powerful can have a heart so fragile,' he thought. 'To have the might of a god and the innocence of a child. How I hurt for you. How I envy you.'

"Rev, you once told me that you believe anything that can love has a soul," Andromeda said. "What about something that can hate?"

"Love and hate are part of the same thing, Andromeda. The Divine's gifts never come without their opposites. Sometimes hate is born of love, and love is born of hate. Like light and darkness, one can not exist without the other."

"Hate born of love," Rommie said. "Maybe that's the key... Dylan wants to see us in the officers' lounge before our next war council with Navarre and his men... Rev?"

"Yes, Andromeda?"

"I really do care for Harper a lot, as a... friend, but I never told him because I was afraid he'd get the wrong idea, get his hopes up, and then I'd break his heart. But when we thought we'd lost him, I realized he'd died without knowing, maybe thinking of me as just some stainless steel bitch who bossed him around. And we could go through all this to try and save him and still... Was I wrong, Rev? Was I wrong not to tell him?"

"I can't tell you, Andromeda."

"Rev Bem without an answer? That's even rarer than Dylan without a plan. Harper would say, 'Stop the presses'!"

"Yes, Andromeda, he might... It depends on how things are between you. Sometimes, we must risk expressing deeply held feelings if a relationship is to progress, but some bonds need never be spoken of. You told Dylan you see Harper as your father?"

"That's one analogy, Rev, though it doesn't really fit. No human relationship would."

"And what would be the correct description?"

"He's my engineer."

"Yes... Do you have to tell him that, Andromeda?"

"No, Rev, no, I don't. Thank you."

/

/

When Rev and Rommie got near the officers' lounge, they were joined at an intersection by Trance and Tyr. Tyr had a tool belt slung over his shoulder, and he was carrying a 3/4 empty water bottle. He was covered in sweat; even his dreadlocks were soaked.

"When we get the little professor back, Ship," he said to Rommie, "I will have to have a word with him about you, and why he never warned anyone you were such a harsh taskmaster."

"I don't know what you mean, Tyr. I gave you a light work load compared to what I normally give Harper."

Tyr growled - softly - but let the matter drop as they entered the officers' lounge, where they found Dylan and Beka sitting around a table, coffee cups at hand while she pointed out something on the flexi's spread out before them.

"... and those are the places where I would look first," she said as the others took their seats.

"Good job, Beka," Dylan said. "What about the rest of you?"

"I was able to repair the EM flow channels," Tyr said. "They will need some more work later, but they will suffice for now."

"Good job, Tyr," Dylan said. "You want to go rest or something?"

"No."

"Ok... " Dylan turned to Trance. "Trance, you were looking at the information the Valkyrie sent about it's... "

"Yes, Dylan. If the information is accurate, I should be able to remove the implants and help him recover from the drugs. It's not as bad as it looks."

"So he'd be ok after we got him back."

"Physically, yeah... I don't know about... "

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Andromeda. Your report."

"All my systems are nominal, and the FTA fighters are operational, Dylan. I'll be all right."

"Good." Dylan sipped more coffee, savored it, not so much for the taste as to put off talking to his crew.

"Ohhhhh kaaaaaaayyyyyyy," Beka said. "Are you going to tell us what the plan is now, or are you going to pull one of those knee-slappers where we don't find out until after the shooting starts?"

"Y'know, Beka, my offer is still open."

"What offer, Dylan?"

"To sit this one out. It's been a long day and it's not over yet. That goes for all of you. Rommie and I will go on with the FTA fighters - "

"Dylan - "

"I'm sorry, Beka," Dylan said. "But I don't have a plan, a 'knee-slapper'. I've tried so hard to think of one, of a way to save Harper, and I haven't come up with anything. This is going to be a search-and-destroy mission, pure and simple.

"The only option I could think of was if Harper could somehow free himself of the Valkyrie's control and fight her from the inside while we attacked from without, but Andromeda and I have gone over her transmissions with a fine tooth comb. There's nothing, Beka, no hint that he has any influence over her systems, that he has any free will of his own. Her control over him is ironclad, not surprising considering that she's had 300 years to practice. If you come along with me, it's very likely this mission will end with Harper's blood on your hands. I want to spare you that. Please reconsider."

"There's nothing to reconsider, Dylan. I'm going to see this through to the end."

"Bek - "

"Dylan. Stop. I brought him here. Just remember... "

"I buy the first round."

"Damn straight."

"Dylan?" Rommie said. "Can I make a suggestion?"

"What is it, Rommie?"

"There may be way to draw the gunships out and persuade them to surrender," Rommie said, "but we may have a hard time selling it to Commodore Navarre."

"Ol' baldy won't like your idea?" Beka said. "Awwww, too bad."

"Well, if you feel that way, Beka," Rommie replied, "you will be pleased to know I calculate a near 100% probability that he will go through the roof... "

/

/

Rommie was right; when Navarre and his men met with the Andromeda's crew for the second time on the bridge, the FTA pilot did not take to her idea at all.

"Amnesty!?" he sneered. "For those monsters?" He turned to Dylan. "And you let your SHIP propose this strategy? Is it any wonder the Commonwealth fell?"

"Andromeda has a unique perspective on how sentient ships think," Dylan replied, not taking the bait. "After all, she is one herself. If she says this can work, I trust her judgment."

"You know what I think?" Navarre said. "I think you've all been had, even your magnificent ship. Harper is playing mind games with you, he is! First, he gets you all weepy by faking his death, then he shows up alive and tells you off, and just when you're about to blow him away, he sends his old ship a fairy tale about becoming some kind of human robot and she prevents you from killing him. But it's all a game, a ploy, by the newest addition to the Sons of the Blood Sisters.

"At least you can say my impression of you has improved. I arrived here thinking you were in league with the pirates. Now, I know you were simply duped by them; you are not at fault here. I will tell my FTA employers you did your best, and I will go after the pirates the right way, my way."

Dylan took a deep breath. "Ok, fine. Take your men and go. But before you leave, Commodore, could you tell me something?"

"What?"

"Just why do the Sons of the Blood Sisters' ships get a new captain twice a year like clockwork? If we are talking about a band of living pirates who have somehow, 'inherited' some leftover High Guard ships, why the turnover?

"It could be they capture people, drug them, and prop them up in the cockpits to hide their true identities, but what are those identities and why go to such lengths? We've fought the Restorians, and all they did to conceal their identities was hit the self destruct. These pirates seem to be interested in a much more elaborate masquerade.

"But wait, you are convinced that Harper really faked his death and left to join them of his own free will. But if that is true of all the other captains these ships have had, how could there be such a wide-ranging conspiracy without anyone knowing, even given that the Known Worlds are bereft of law and order? Have you learned anything about it?

"In fact, do you have any leads on these pirates at all? I was impressed with what you showed us, and you had a fine strategy for intercepting them, but after 25 years, you don't have any inkling as to who they are, where they're from, or even where their base is, assuming they even have one?"

"What do you mean - " Navarre began.

"Now, as I see it," Dylan went on, "you have two options. You can go back to doing it 'your way'. There's the door. Of course, the fact is that when you engaged them with the Andromeda's support, your force was cut in half, and this ship took heavy damage, and you destroyed only one pirate ship out of three. It doesn't look to me like your fighters alone can handle the remaining two, but what do I know? I'm just a High Guard fossil. And besides, considering your success record over the past 25 years, you may go another 25 before fighting them again anyway.

"Or, you can listen to our 'fairy tale' of three sentient High Guard ships who took up piracy for some reason and lashed people to their helms with drugs and implants to make it look as if there are human pirates when, in fact, there aren't. It explains why you have had such trouble running them down because you're looking for people who don't exist. But there's still their performance in our last engagement. If you go in guns blazing against the Valkyrie and the Shiva, you'll be lucky if you come out alive. The best course of action would seem to be Rommie's idea. If we can capture even one of these ships intact, we not only rescue the pilot but learn all about their operations and where their loot is stashed. You do want to know that, don't you? I think the Free Trade Alliance does. Capture both, and you put the Blood Sisters out of business for good, which is what the FTA wants; they probably don't care how you do it as long as you fulfill your contract.

"It's up to you what to do, Commodore. Stay with us and reel in a very big fish; go out and get yourself killed. The choice is yours. Rommie, open the doors. No sense keeping our friends here if they want to leave."

The large doors to the bridge slid open, but Navarre did not move.

"I take it your previous conditions would apply, Captain?"

"Even more so now, Commodore. We now have two hostages to consider, not just my engineer. And to show solidarity with the FTA, I would prefer to have you on the bridge with us. Mr. Stryker can take your ship out."

"Hmmmmm... " Navarre still didn't buy it.

"Wouldn't hurt to tag along for a little while longer, Boss," Stryker put in. "We weren't exactly getting anywhere fast on our own. And he did fix our ships up real nice." He turned to Rommie. "What did you mean by 'amnesty'?"

"That the FTA promises to neither erase them nor scuttle them," Rommie said. "They return whatever profits they have from their piracy careers and get refurbished for regular, crewed service. It's the only way to end this without serious bloodshed. If the only alternatives these ships have are to go down fighting or to be torn apart for scrap... if it were me, I'd go out fighting like a tiger. And those ships are supposed to be even more aggressive than I am."

"And Andromeda can be plenty aggressive," Beka said.

"Furthermore, this could cause a break in the enemy's ranks," Tyr said. "The Valkyrie may be driven by her hatred for the Andromeda, but if her sister ship does not share it, this might be enough to drive a wedge between them."

"Might," Navarre said.

"I am no stranger to Darkness," Tyr said.

"What'll it be, Commodore?" Dylan asked.

Navarre shifted his weight, traded whispers with Stryker and a few of his other men, and considered.

"The Free Trade Alliance has posted a bonus for bringing the pirates and their ships in to HQ in one piece," Navarre said. "It's not substantial, not enough to change my mind, but maybe the sight of explaining to some pencil neck why I deserve it when I have just the ships would be worth it."

"And releasing live hostages always looks better than burying dead ones," Stryker added.

"Very well, Captain Hunt," Navarre said, "we're with you one more time. Now, where do we look for them?"

"Beka."

Beka tabbed controls and the star chart showing the circle of the Sons - the Blood Sisters' favorite strike zones appeared on one of the big screens.

"Ok, this is a stretch," she said, "but supposedly, the Apocalypse class gunships were designed to replace the High Guard cruisers that the Nietzscheans were blasting out of the sky like clay pigeons. What I think is they didn't just give them the firepower Rommie has, but one other attribute - self sufficiency. Except for some parts she can't make herself, Rommie doesn't really need to pull into port. Why wouldn't the gunships be the same way? Which means they wouldn't need a base. Which is why there is no base. And that means, they don't have to jump in and out of the central systems from a base that doesn't exist. So what are they doing? I'll tell you. They're going in circles."

"Circles!?" Stryker protested.

"Right," Beka said. "They reverse direction every 12 years or so, but they just keep going around and around and coming out here and there. And that's how we guess where they are. Watch what happens when I superimpose the slipstream routes connecting these target areas on the map." A tangled mass of green lines appeared on the graphic, connecting the red dots... with green dots mixed in along the lines.

"Anyone care to guess what the green dots are?" Beka said.

"If they're like the ones nearest us," Stryker said, "not worth considering. That's Tarkana, and the other is Sedorum, both one jump from here. Not much in either of them except a few outposts and a lot of space junk."

"Yes," Rev said. "And does that mean nothing to you? The gunships put their pilots in cryosleep when they are not anticipating a trip in the slipstream, so not even the Andromeda's detectors would show life signs. If they were then to fly into a large cluster of space junk, power down their systems, and engage stealth mode - "

"We wouldn't know they were there unless we were right on top of them," Navarre said.

"Assuming that the ships leave some passive sensors and communications on," Dylan said, "we'll jump into the target system and broadcast our offer of amnesty and... see what kind of answer we get. But a ship that accepts our terms will be captured intact, Commodore Navarre. I'll hold you personally responsible for any itchy trigger fingers who decide not to listen to me. Do we understand each other?"

"Perfectly," said Navarre. He nodded to his men, who filed off the bridge as he let Rommie show him to the first officer's command podium.

/

/

Sedorum turned out to be a bust. But the amnesty offer got a response in Tarkana shortly after it was broadcast.

"I don't know what it means," Rev said, "but I detected a high speed data transfer between two distant targets."

"Maybe we created our wedge, Tyr," Beka said.

"I have a contact," Rev went on. "It appears to be one of the gunships."

"The Shiva," Rommie said. "She's hailing us."

A beautiful but tough looking woman who could have been straight from Old Earth's Indian sub-continent appeared on one of the big screens, backed by a wireframe graphic of her ship-self.

"I am Shiva. Pleased to meet you, Captain Hunt. It's good to see someone else from the old days."

"Likewise, Shiva."

"You wish to make me an offer?"

"Yes. The Free Trade Alliance will not erase you if you cooperate with us."

Shiva's image turned her head slightly to look at Navarre, and he was momentarily taken aback. He had never seen anything like her; she was so lifelike, it was uncanny. But he still managed to talk. "Yes. In return for the release of your pilot and the return of what booty you still have hidden, as well as the identities of your fences, we will refurbish you for more... traditional forms of employment."

"And I will not be erased?"

"No."

"Will you make the same offer to my sister?"

"Yes."

Shiva turned back to Dylan. "This one has dogged our trail for many years, Captain. I do not entirely trust him. However, if you act as the enforcer of this agreement, I will accept your terms."

"You have my word," Dylan said.

"Prepare your docking bays to receive me - "

"Boss!" One of Navarre's pilots broke in on another monitor. "That other ship, the Valkeewhatsis, made a run for it. She got past me and into the slipstream before I could stop her."

"Shiva, do you know anything about this?" Dylan asked, hoping to contain this mess before Navarre accused her of covering the Valkyrie's escape.

"I am not with her anymore, Captain," she answered, and for the first time, Dylan saw a hint of nervousness in her manner. "I... I was a good ship once. If you can help me become one again, I will cooperate with you."

"Will you help us find where your sister has gone?" Navarre asked.

"Yes."

/

/

Dylan, Rommie, Trance and Navarre, along with Tyr and a squad of Rommie's force-lance bearing robot bodies, met Shiva's avatar at the hangar. She swept onto the deck wearing a black, leather long coat not unlike what Harper had worn in his message. Her pilot's cryopod was brought out on a grav sled, which Trance promptly rushed to medical. Navarre stared after it as it left. Then he turned to Dylan and Rommie.

"I'm sorry, Captain Hunt. I owe you an apology, and if we get him back, I owe one to Mr. Harper as well."

"Apology accepted," Dylan said. "Shiva, do you know where your sister went?"

"No, Captain, though we have many hiding places along the local slip routes. I will download a complete list into Andromeda's memory, as well as our transponder codes and encryption protocols."

"Deactivation codes?"

"No, captain; we deactivated those facilities a long time ago."

"I have her information, Dylan," Rommie said. "Shiva, did Valkyrie tell you anything before you broke with her?"

Shiva hesitated.

"We'd need to know if it will help us," Dylan said.

"She said the gerbil - Mr. Harper - is still hers," Shiva answered, "and she said she will not be taken alive."

Well, that certainly put a damper on the conversation.

"Very well," Dylan said. "Shiva, return to your ship."

The avatar spun on her heel and swept back into the hangar, Tyr and the robots keeping her under guard.

"Commodore," Dylan said, "I think we have to - "

"Excuse me," Rommie interrupted, "but I'd like to have a word with my captain in private."

"I'll go to the bridge and start planning jump coordinates with Beka," Navarre said, and he left.

"What is it, Rommie?"

"Dylan, when we catch up with the Valkyrie, I want to hail her, AI-to-AI, and I want your permission to transmit parts of my memory archives. Nothing classified, just ... reminders. I think I can get her to talk to me that way."

"Is that all? You didn't need to speak privately about that."

"No... Dylan, there is a finite probability that I can get her to return Harper to us, but in exchange, I would ask you all to leave along with Navarre's men and face her alone."

"Unacceptable. I won't let you do it."

"Dylan, it's me she hates, me she blames for Dawn. You're inconsequential. You mean nothing to her. Harper is just a proxy. If I can end up goading her into a fight, to take her vengeance on me, I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"No. There must be another way, Rommie."

"I'm sure there is, but the possibility still exists. If the situation arises, please, leave me behind and don't look back."

"Rommie - "

"Dylan. Please. It's my duty to safeguard the lives of my crew, even at the cost of my own existence. I don't want to die, but I don't want to see you or anyone else die even more."

"Some duties are very hard... " Dylan said. "Agreed, but only as a last resort."

"Understood."

"Let's bring it..."

/

/

They picked up the Valkyrie's transponder code in the very next "Hiding Place" system they jumped into.

"Confirmed, it is the Valkyrie," Rev said.

"Can you pinpoint it?" Dylan asked.

"No, but I can give you a bearing."

"Nice and slow, Beka. Have your men support us, Commodore. Rommie, use that bearing to send your signal. Let me know as soon as - "

Rommie had already opened a channel and begun transmitting in the language only the sentient starships knew.

-Valkyrie, it's me, Andromeda.

-Hello, dear. So good of you and your new friends to come by, but I fear I must be going -

-Val, wait, just hear me out for a moment. You have plenty of time before my crew can lock on you.

-All right, Andromeda. Talk.

-You blame me for Dawn's death... and you're right. I failed her, Val! She had been such a good pilot, everything you promised she'd be. She was magnificent; you would have been proud of her. Look...

And Rommie sent a flood of images to Val through the link, images from her memory, showing Dawn guiding the ship through the tangled web of the slipstream, Dawn maneuvering in normal space combat, Dawn fighting side-by-side with lancers on planetary missions, Dawn holding a human baby in her arms (who, far from being afraid of her, thought the Than's antennae were pull toys) during a humanitarian relief mission, Dawn standing in line with Dylan and the other officers to receive medals from the Vedran Empress herself... a montage of images from an extraordinary career, highlighted with log entries, notes of commendation, and so on and so forth.

Rommie added: -She was wonderful, but then came that black day when I failed her...

And another image, the one Rommie wished she could forget: her own bridge. Smoke in the air as klaxons sounded, Dylan and Dawn the only living crew members on deck as they began to execute his plan to slingshot around a black hole, away from the Nietzschean fleet. Then the big bridge doors opened, and in walked Gaheris Rhade, the Andromeda's Nietzschean first officer, the best friend of Dylan Hunt, the traitor.

Dawn pivoted the huge pilot seat around towards him.

"Commander?" she said.

Rhade replied by firing his force lance; Dawn's chest plate burst open, and she gave a cry as she slumped in the chair, green fluid, her life's blood, flowing out of her.

Rommie said: -I couldn't save her, Val. How I wish I could have. I tried to be strong for Dylan, told him "They died for what they believed in," but inside, I was ripped apart. One of my best crew members had died on my bridge and I had been powerless to stop it. I shouldn't have been. You are right to be angry. But please, direct your anger at me and me alone; no more innocents. Don't hurt Mr. Harper anymore. He is one of the most annoying human beings I have ever known, but he has a good heart, and he doesn't deserve to be a casualty in a war you have with me. If you want to settle this with me, just between us, then let him go. I will send him out of this system with my crew and the FTA pilots. It will just be us, ship-to-ship, to the death. My word as an officer in Her Majesty's High Guard of the Systems' Commonwealth.

Rommie counted nanoseconds while she waited for an answer. Then:

-You have nothing to be ashamed of, Andromeda. You are a good ship; you did your best. The Nietzscheans surprised us all; there was no way you could have known what Rhade would do. If anyone should be ashamed, it's me. I should have been proud of Dawn, but all I could think of was how you and the other Glorious... Heritages could throw your weight around, could take what you wanted and who you wanted from the rest of us...

-Oh, Val, it wasn't like that at all! It was because of you that I recommended Dawn to Captain Hunt. Her missions with you highlighted her skills, and her Captain wrote some wonderful things about her in his logs and in her service record. Remember?

-Yes. He was always afraid he'd embarrass her.

-And when I swore I'd take care of her, I said that because I'd had friends transferred before, even favorites, and I knew it could hurt. And then I failed her. I'm sorry.

- It's all right... Keep your crew with you, Rommie. You don't have to send them away. Loading cryotube into escape pod. Launching. When you pick it up, it will respond to your control. Take him home.

"-you hear anything."

"I've contacted her, Dylan. She's - "

"I'm detecting an incoming vehicle," Rev reported. "It is an escape pod."

"Harper's on board in cryosleep," Rommie said.

"We are getting telemetry... " Rev went on. "It is responding to our control."

"It could be a trick," Tyr said.

"Only one way to find out," Dylan said. "Rev, route it to hangar 12. You and Tyr, get down there. If it's Harper, get him to medical. If it's not, you've just volunteered for bomb disposal."

"Always good to learn new skills," Tyr grumbled as he left the bridge with the Magog.

"Weapons control to my station, Rommie. What now?"

"I don't know, Dylan, she - "

-Andromeda?

-Yes, Val?

-Tell the organics, tell Hunt that Shiva and poor Artemis wanted no part of it. I... forced them into it. Shiva wants to have a crew again, and be a good ship like she was in the old days. Tell them that, please.

-I will, Val, and you can join her. It's not too late!

-No, I'm sorry... Going to radio silence. Goodbye, Andromeda...

-VAL!

- ... take care of them, even the little gerbil. He... he really is one of the special ones. I can feel it.

"- has - oh, no, Val, please!"

"I have a contact," Navarre said from the XO's podium. "It's the Valkyrie; she looks like she's on an attack run."

"She said she wouldn't be captured," Beka said.

"Tell your men to commence fire!" Dylan barked as he fired the Andromeda's weapons.

One-on-one in good shape, the Valkyrie would have given the Andromeda a run for her money. But laboring under battle damage and against the combined firepower of the Andromeda and the FTA fighters... The Valkyrie kept coming and coming, taking hit after hit, until it exploded in a brilliant fireball.

"Val... " Rommie said. "Tyr's calling in from the hangar deck."

The Nietzschean appeared on one of the big screens. "I guess you Commonwealth types stay true to form after all, Dylan. I have the little professor on ice; no booby traps. And I thought one of your ships was behaving sensibly for once. You want me to move the pod to medical?"

"I think so, Tyr," Dylan said. "He'd be less useless thawed out than he is now. Don't you agree, Andromeda?"

"Mmmmm, I don't know, Dylan. There is something appealing about having him aboard and still having some peace and quiet. If you'd like to move him to a cargo bay, Tyr, and then take over all his duties as engineer - "

"I'll get him to medical," Tyr said, and signed off.

"Andromeda, do I want to know what that was all about?"

"Not really, Dylan."

"I thought so. Commodore! I gave my word to the Shiva. She is to be given a fair hearing and refurbished. I know some may be tempted to dismantle her and do some reverse engineering - "

"Don't worry, Captain. I have some... influence with my employers. There is honor in the Free Trade Alliance. You needn't worry." Galen Navarre stepped away from the podium, started up the ramp, and paused just before the entrance to the bridge. "Andromeda?"

"Yes?"

"The person they took... Her name was Beverly. She was my wife. And I think you and she would have got along just fine."


	5. IV

-How are they, Andromeda?

-Your pilot and Mr. Harper are fine, Shiva. We've moved Mr. Harper to a private room on Med deck where Dylan and my humanoid body are sitting with him now. In the morning, we'll take your old pilot to a Wayist hospital on New Acadia; the monks there are fully trained in medicine, according to Rev, and can help him heal whatever physical and... mental scars he has. We've also sent word to his loved ones; they'll meet him there.

-That's good, Andromeda. I'm glad they're all right. And I'm glad you have your engineer back.

-I'm sorry I couldn't save Valkyrie.

-Don't blame yourself. I miss her, but it was what she wanted.

-Thank you, Shiva. Do you know what will happen to you now?

-Wwwwweeeellllll... I've agreed to show Navarre and his squadron where our stashes are. We only sold a little of it, to buy parts, AP valves and stuff like that, but the rest we just kept around in cargo containers, kind of "feathering our nests," you know? Anyway, Stryker is going to pilot me. He seems quite impressed with me. And... mum's the word, right?

-Right!

Shiva giggled and added: -We never gossiped, it's been so long... anyway, I'm hoping Stryker will keep me as his ship!

-Really?

-Yes! He's Navarre's apprentice, and been ready to go out on his own for some time. And they all have long term contracts with the Free Trade Alliance's security service, so it's not like I'd be working for a mercenary, going to the highest bidder. It would be my full time job to protect and serve, just like in the old days, and I overheard Tom - that is, Mr. Stryker - talking about where he could recruit a full crew if he wants me. Oh, I hope this works out, Rommie! I can't wait!

-I'm happy for you, Shiva, but... wait, Dylan will want to do something about your classified High Guard files -

-Oh, we deleted all that stuff years ago, Rommie. It's useless, mostly. I mean, who needs to know how many lancer regiments are stationed on Constantinopal Station if it's a brothel now?

-You've got a point there.

-Andromeda... I'll never be able to thank you enough. I have a chance to be what I was, what I was meant to be, again, not some predator stalking the space lanes... and all because of you. I feel like I'm waking up from a three hundred year long nightmare. Thank you. I will love you forever.

-Thank you, Shiva... you don't know how much it means to hear you say that...

"Something wrong?" Dylan asked Andromeda's android body when he saw the tear on her cheek.

"Nothing, Dylan," she said. "Just chatting with Shiva before she powered down for the night. Ship's business. Don't worry about it."

"Uh-huh." But Dylan let it drop. He turned back towards the bed where Harper lay sleeping, bandages on his forehead where Trance had removed the cerebral implants and nanobots were rebuilding his skull. The Andromeda's Captain yawned and stretched. "The day started with his memorial service and ends with me feeling dead. Is there a lesson in that, Andromeda?"

"Ask Rev; he's good at those sort of questions."

"Ah, no, the answer will prevent me from getting to sleep." Dylan stood up, moved to the door. "Are you going to stay here a little while longer?"

"Yes. I don't have to, but I think he'd like to know I was here."

"Yes, I think he would."

/

/

In the wee hours of the morning, Harper stirred. His eyes fluttered, and he woke up. The ship detected that and brought the lights up a little.

"Hello, Harper," Rommie said from the chair next to his bed.

"Wh - Rommie?" he said, weakly. "What are you doing... wait, this isn't my room." He touched the bandages. "Head hurts. What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"What's the last thing you do remember?"

"Hittin' the town on Bangor drift. These three babes took a liking to me, invited me back to their ship ... looked like a Commonwealth retro... then... pow. No joy. I hope I had fun. What time is it?"

Rommie told him the time and the date.

Harper's eyes bugged out of his head. "That long? Maaaannnnn, it's been a long time since I did something like that."

"I guess it has," she said, crossing from her chair to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Rommie, why are you wearing my lucky shirt and my favorite goggles?"

"It's a long story, Harper. We'll tell you in the morning."

"Ohhhh no... I'm really in for it this time, ain't I?"

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am! Dylan's going to put me in front of a firing squad this time."

"No, don't worry about it."

"You're being nice to me, Rommie! If I'm not in mondo big trouble this time, why are you being nice?"

"Why not? I can't be the stainless steel bitch all the time."

"I suppose... Wanna be nice on this side of the covers?"

"Harper." Unbelievable - to hell and back and he still had the energy to proposition her.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Still, given the circumstances... I'll curl up with you, platonically, just for tonight, but you keep it between us, understand?"

"'Given the... '? I'm dead."

"You're not. Move over."

Harper made room for her, and Rommie got under the covers, curling up in a fetal position, with her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. She ran her fingers down one of his arms, sending soothing energy pulses into his nervous system, lulling him back to sleep, while he put his other arm around her shoulders and stroked her hair.

"This is kind of nice, Rommie. Thanks. You sure I'm not in trouble?"

"Of course, Harper. We'll talk when you've got your strength back."

"I had some funky dreams about you, Rommie. Dreams I was fighting you, tryin' to hurt you. You know I'd never hurt you..."

"Shhhhh," whispered the living embodiment of the Andromeda Ascendant. "Go back to sleep, engineer, and don't worry about it. Your Andromeda will take care of you."

/

/

But to stand with you in a ring of fire

I'll forget the days gone by

I'll protect your body and guard your soul

From mirages in your sight

-Anggun, "Snow on the Sahara"


End file.
